Parades are often forlorn events. The pomp and circumstance that brings forth the loud serenade of trumpets, drums and cadence of disparate groups; the sequence of human colonnades marching to the beat of rhythmic blares where medals gleam in the glint of sunlight’s twilight; and when the speeches end and the parade that fades leaves but for the leaflets that once announced of its impending arrival, the hearts that once fluttered in anticipation of the marching band that lost its footing may but be a glimmer of tomorrow’s hope.

Parades celebrate, and the participants engage the public eye to put on a show of appreciation, but do they voluntarily come together, or are they merely compensated workers ordered to appear? And when once the parade fades, what happens to those left behind, of the grieving widows and children left orphaned, and the pinning of medals that sang the mournful hollow of a priceless life?

Other lives march on; it is the forgotten ones that inhabit an earth that continues on in haunting groups of voiceless sorrow, for years on end without the recognition noted but for that singular day on the parade grounds, where glory once revived and then soon forgotten. Much of life is like that, isn’t it?

Like a parade that is put on, lasts for a day, or perhaps merely a part thereof, and then soon to be forgotten except for memories that are seared with a grimace and graceless utterances of voices once remembered and now merely a fading vestige, if that. What was the fanfare for? Do we even remember? What was said in the speech now faded but for glory’s once grand applause? Do we even care?

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition, where the medical condition begins to prevent the Federal or Postal worker’s attempt to continue his or her career because the progressively worsening medical condition itself is preventing one from performing one or more of the essential elements of one’s job — the end of one’s career may be likened to the parade that fades.

That sense of belonging; that feeling that life’s cadence included you in the marching band of the colorful parade; of being part of a team, with a sense of coherence and purpose; but like all parades, the day’s end ultimately comes. Whether you are under FERS, CSRS or CSRS Offset, the sinking feeling that the parade that fades may mean that there is no longer the trumpet’s blare or the drumbeat of life’s cadence is simply a fear within that does not reflect reality.

Tomorrow, the sun will still shine and the birds will yet sing; the grounds will still be there, and preparing, formulating and filing an effective Federal Disability Retirement application, to be filed with the U.S. Office of Personnel Management is merely changing the venue of where the next parade will be held, thus replacing the parade that fades at the end of this day alone.

It is a strange concept that encompasses a sequence of duality in the willfulness of the mind – first, to recall, to bring out from the cognitive closet of one’s mind, a vestige of that which was once lost. Then, the act of the “un” – a negation which abandons that which was once rediscovered; to cast aside and set away an image, a piece of knowledge or a conceptual relic once recovered but now, with deliberative intent, to throw it back into that back room collection where things reviewed have been considered but found to be unworthy to keep in open exhibition.

Thus, there is a linear duality of sequential negations: Once known, then forgotten; remembered and thus retrieved for review, and finally in the domino of cognitive acts, to deliberately engage in the “un” – to unremember that which was once reenacted and reengaged mentally.

It is, then, a deliberate force of the will to consciously engage in an act of self-engagement, and to extinguish like a flame once rediscovered in banishment to complete darkness. The concept itself is reflective of life’s travels, where we engage daily living and become too involved in the process of advancing in our careers, bringing up kids as best we can, and forget the enjoyment of life itself, until one day we pause, look up from the ground that keeps moving under and behind us in our rush to constantly move forward, and ask the disturbing question: What is this all for? Why am I doing all this? What is the purpose of all of this?

And then we remember: that youthful exuberance where dreams once lived, now deadened in the unresuscitated state of disrepair, when the world was still but an uncultivated terrain to be explored and conquered. Then, we saw the potential not only of what could be accomplished, but of our own roles in the betterment of society. We had once known; then, in the busy turmoil of life, we forgot; and then again, we remembered. Once remembered, we smile, put on a brave face and move forward again – unremembering again by sheer willpower so that we can again “do” instead of becoming stagnant in the constant ruminations of a negation that requires the final step of “un”.

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition, such that the medical condition is keeping the Federal or Postal employee in that step preceding the final engagement of the will to “do” by being stuck in the “un” world, the next step in the sequence to move forward is to begin to prepare, formulate and file an effective Federal Disability Retirement application with the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, whether the Federal or Postal employee is under FERS, CSRS or CSRS Offset.

For, it is the unremembered life that gets beyond the forgetting and the retrieval, in order to get to that step beyond – especially where a medical condition is involved.

Long before the 2008 debacle of economic turmoil; preceding epic movies following, of the lavish ineptitude of miscreants awash in money’s sale of souls in exchange for the temporal pleasures of limitless fantasies; when laughter could be heard yet, because the future still held some hope, there was a movie by the same title. It was a comedy of innocence – although, the language used may still blush for some, it reveals a period long gone and no longer found in today’s society where revealing all, telling everyone and showing unabashedly have become the normative course of behavior.

Unlike the reality of Wall Street’s mechanism of manipulation, the storyline follows a fairly conventional discourse of moral constancy – of identifiable evil; revenge and retribution for wrongs committed; redemption for those whose failings resulted from unseemly characters. Contrast that with the fictional depictions of today, some mere several decades hence: the unjust are left unpunished, or barely so; the miscreants are bailed out from their own folly and greed; and the Mom & Pop store just around the corner is still left wondering why they were never rescued from bankruptcy, when the very ones who created the economic crisis are back at it, again.

The problem with discussing such issues on a macro-scale, of course, is that generalities invite sweeping statements of inane and excusable tendencies, whereas kitchen-table, microcosmic tales of individual narratives leave no room for such averted cover of hidden devices, where rats and other scoundrels may scurry to find convenient places to conceal their shameful misdeeds.

We often wish that we, too, could “trade places”, but only because we fail to listen to the details of troubles faded on lawns across the street where the grass appears greener, but where the internal turmoil of ghosts hidden remain veiled.

Medical conditions have a way of bringing us all back to the basics of living. For, when one is healthy, all sorts and manner of wishing for fortunes and superficiality of life’s extras are engaged; but when a medical condition hits, all that we desire is for the boredom of good health. Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition, such that the medical condition prevents the Federal or Postal employee from performing one or more of the essential elements of the Federal or Postal employee’s position of formal occupation (as reflected on an SF 50 or PS Form 52), understand this concept all too well.

Trading places is all relative, especially when it comes to the basics of human happiness. For Louis Winthorpe III and Billy Ray Valentine, it happened that fate brought two unlikely characters together to right the wrongs of a macroeconomic system left to manipulative devices on the commodities trading floor; for the Federal and Postal employee who suffers from a medical condition, such that the medical condition prevents the Federal or Postal employee from performing one or more of the essential elements of one’s positional duties, the desire to “trade places” is somewhat more basic – of mere good health in order to maintain a constancy of life’s pleasures taken for granted by others.

But, instead, often the best option for trading places is to prepare, formulate and file an effective Federal Disability Retirement application, submitted to the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, whether the Federal or Postal employee is under FERS, CSRS or CSRS Offset. Sometimes, the trade itself is a compromise on a micro-scale of lesser proportions, and not within the complex world of high finance and commodities exchanges.

Whether used metaphorically or in stark linguistic pragmatism but described with a shroud of nicety cloaked by innuendo and oblique allusion, the aggregate of detritus produced and scattered is daunting when calculated by daily volume, multiplied by the current population, and exponentially projected in terms of a mere decade or two. But waste or debris can take on many forms, including a reference to loss of potential, shattered emotional and psychological constructs destroyed by garbage left in the wounds of a child harmed.

Human detritus is the compilation of all of the garbage gathered by society, whether of abandoned towns and provinces left hollow and uninhabitable because of the ravages of war, or the production of things used and discarded for daily convenience; and in metaphorical terms, of the skeletons of men and women shed of the substance of form and character because of the treatment weathered on the shores of indecency.

Gather up the cumulative aggregate of human detritus having occupied this planet, both in terms of physical objects and the wounding shards of deliberating projectiles intent upon destruction and devastation, and we have a daunting sense of who we are, what we stand for, and where we are headed. Waste and debris; in the end, will those two words describe the sum total of what we have contributed to the world around us? What is the algorithm, or methodological approach, in determining that conclusion of accomplishments at the end of our lives? Is it determined in terms of how many neighbors and friends we destroyed, or of whom we bamboozled?

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who seek to file for Federal Disability Retirement benefits out of necessity of circumstances, it often appears that the answer to the previous question is found in the extent and unlimited character of cruelty found in the essence of humankind. Harassment, workplace stress and intolerance of less productivity discovered in the Federal or Postal worker who suffers from a medical condition, are merely further indicia of the eternal bewilderment we discover concerning human invective.

Accommodation of one’s medical condition is rarely found; an exponential rise in human passivity and loss of empathetic response has become the norm; and because there is no other exit, filing for Federal Disability Retirement benefits through the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, whether the Federal or Postal employee is under FERS, CSRS or CSRS Offset, is the alternative of choice, and understandably so.

For, in the end, the cost of human detritus resides not in the workplace which we left, or the placards promised but discarded in the hidden closets of dusty psyches; rather, the cost is counted by the scars hidden when actions known to benefit remain mere thoughts of procrastinated dreams, like the warm breath of gods and angel’s wings fluttering in the timeless eternity of last year’s wishes.

As an active noun, it can mean the protection accorded to a migrant seeking refuge and escape from persecution; in a passive sense, it is an institution with a historical connotation of ill-treatment and mistreatment, imposed against the will of another who may be unable to care for oneself. In either implied denotations, it reflects a protective refuge, either against the outside forces by within, or in response to inner spirits imagined without.

In rarer moments of perceptive translucence, one sees the need for the imposition of both definitions upon an allegedly sane universe. Like the story by Hans Christian Andersen, The Emperor’s New Clothes, it isn’t until we stop ourselves and pause for reflection, like the boy who shouted out that, indeed, the Emperor is wearing none, that the need for an asylum is everywhere to be discovered.

Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers observe and witness such an event each day, every hour. For Federal employees with a medical condition, and Postal workers who suffer through the agony of daily turmoil because “management” will not allow an injured worker to be accommodated, the abuse and misuse of people — the very resource of civilization which should be protected like precious gems to be admired and revered — is palpable and ultimately inexcusable.

Federal Disability Retirement should not be the final refuge of asylum seekers, but it often is. It isn’t that Federal or Postal workers turn at the first opportunity to seek the protective walls of escape, but Federal and Postal workers often have no other choice. If allowed to recuperate and regain one’s sense of equilibrium and repose, it may be that the wealth of experience and knowledge gained through years and decades of work could be re-channeled, but Federal agencies and the U.S. Postal Service rarely see it that way, and instead view all individuals as merely short-term investments.

Asylums are built to protect, but when the patients have run amok and control the very institutions designed to provide the refuge needed, it is then time for the Federal or Postal worker seeking assistance in filing for Federal Disability Retirement benefits through the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, to contact an attorney to escape from the madness of antiseptic walls crawling with imaginary creepy-crawlies — or those who control the levers of power in the Federal agencies and the U.S. Postal Service.

It was an old mining town, once boasting of a bustling main street, filled with commotion, commerce and conversation, where expectations of future success and advancement were brimming with hope and activity. People said that it would always be the bellwether of the country; as McKenna’s Pass went, so goes the nation.

The origin of its name was somewhat in dispute. Old Timers who harkened of past days of glory tried to inject their hoarse voices over the din of youth to get their two cents in, that the origination of the town’s name came from when the days of ore traders would pass through to cities of greater significance, and McKenna just happened to pause for a few days longer than most, and thus the designation.

Others of a more youthful persuasion attributed the misnomer and thought it concealed the darker side of the town’s council, where “Past” was grammatically mispronounced in their minds despite the prominent sign at the north entryway of the town; but then, who among those who live in a place ever notice the signs coming in? Growth, future prospects and the promise of unceasing expectations would outpace even the greatest of cities. “They’ll see,” was always the reply when doubts surfaced; always, there was a glint of mischief pervading, as if the “insiders” knew something beyond what the rest of the nation didn’t.

Somewhere along the line, something happened. No one knows what, or how, or even when. The first sign was the grocery store that closed; the owner’s wife suddenly died, and it was like the oxygen was sucked out of a vibrant life, and without warning an implosion left a devastation beyond repair. Then, graffiti appeared; people never suspected the kids from their own neighborhoods, as the pride of McKenna’s Pass was beyond such acts of hooliganism. Other towns and cities may have been ashamed of their residents and nefarious neighbors who engaged in untold acts in the dead of night; this town never had to look away, or so the thought was. Then a gas explosion ripped through the Southwestern end of Main Street; rumors began to surface; the Town Council’s senior member resigned with charges of kickbacks.

Change was in the air; inevitably, future expectations once anticipated by youthful folly was butting heads with the reality of present circumstances. People could smell the aroma of death or, if not such a dramatic and sudden cessation, certainly decay around the edges.

Medical conditions and changes in one’s future plans have a tendency to do just that. For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who find that one’s invincible plans of latter years of youthful enthusiasm are now requiring the tinkering of repair and replacement, the view towards change can be merely a picture window needing an alteration of interior design. Medical conditions can prompt the necessity for change; and while change is often difficult to accept and undertake, one cannot fight against those forces beyond one’s control.

When the Federal employee or the U.S. Postal worker begins to experience an inability to perform one or more of the essential elements of one’s positional duties in the Federal Sector or the U.S. Postal Service, it may be time to consider preparing, formulating and filing for Federal Disability Retirement benefits through the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, whether the Federal or Postal employee is under FERS, CSRS or CSRS Offset.

For, as the townspeople in McKenna’s Pass may have thought that the future would always be one of growth, advancement and greater achievement, the reality is that contraction often follows expansion, and the certitude that life never remains static is a truth where youth’s folly ignores the wisdom of ages, as the empty buildings and hollow passageways echoing of silent plans left unfulfilled reverberate through the once-promising days of a town we knew as “McKenna’s Pass”.

Seven False Myths about OPM Disability Retirement

1) I have to be totally disabled to get Postal or Federal disability retirement.
False: You are eligible for disability retirement so long as you are unable to perform one or more of the essential elements of your job. Thus, it is a much lower standard of disability.

2) My injury or illness has to be job-related.
False: You can get disability even if your condition is not work related. If your medical condition impacts your ability to perform any of the core elements of your job, you are eligible, regardless of how or where your condition occurred.

3) I have to quit my federal job first to get disability.
False: In most cases, you can apply while continuing to work at your present job, to the extent you are able.

4) I can't get disability if I suffer from a mental or nervous condition.
False: If your condition affects your job performance, you can still qualify. Psychiatric conditions are treated no differently from physical conditions.

5) Disability retirement is approved by DOL Workers Comp.
False: It's the Office of Personnel Management (OPM) the federal agency that administers and approves disability for employees at the US Postal Service or other federal agencies.

6) I can wait for OPM disability retirement for many years after separation.
False: You only have one year from the date of separation from service - otherwise, you lose your right forever.

7) If I get disability retirement, I won't be able to apply for Scheduled Award (SA).
False: You can get a Scheduled Award under the rules of OWCP even after you get approved for OPM disability retirement.